


Enough Of Hate

by periwinklepromise



Series: Some Say The World Will End [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Assorted minor characters from Westeros and Essos, Can be read alone, Dark!Dany, Domestic Violence, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Escaping Abusive Situations, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Inspired by Season 8, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Modern Westeros, POV Jon Snow, Self-Esteem Issues, Verbal Abuse, not Dany friendly, part of a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: It was fate. It must be. The day after the disaster, the day after he decided he had to leave Dany, he saw her. That bright red hair, he'd know it anywhere. Kissed by fire, they called it.Jon thought he'd had enough fire in his life. But if anyone knew how to escape their abuser ... it was Sansa Stark.In a modern Westeros, Jon decides to leave his abusive girlfriend Daenerys, and Sansa agrees to help him. But they have to be careful. They can't be caught...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (And now, for the continuation...)
> 
> Welcome, all! 
> 
> This is the second part of a trilogy, but I think it can stand alone. In the first part, Those Who Favor Fire, we learn about Jon and Dany's relationship and the various abuses he has suffered during this relationship. At the end, he decides he has to leave her. Now, he just has to learn how to do it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It was fate. It must be. 

The day after the disaster, exhausted, red-eyed, stumbling down the sidewalk like a zombie, and then he saw her. That bright red hair, he'd know it anywhere. 

Kissed by fire, the Watch boys liked to call it. 

Jon thought he'd had enough fire in his life. Almost let her walk away entirely. 

And then he remembered something Robb had revealed once, when their family had been visiting the Watch. That she had gotten mixed up with that Lannister tool Joffrey, may crows feast on his flesh. Arya had taken to carrying knives any time she went out with her sister, just in case. The whole Stark family had been protective as wolves once they'd finally found out. 

And she'd gotten out. Almost entirely on her own. The Starks hadn't known until it was already over, and Joffrey was a lucky bastard, to not have to face their wrath.

If anyone knew how to do this... it would be Sansa Stark. She could help him escape.

“Sansa!” he called out, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to jolt forward. “Sansa!” Jon almost had to barrel over some other pedestrians, but he managed to catch up with her, as she stood squinting into the sunlight, looking for the voice calling her name. “Sansa,” he gasped, breathless from years of fatigue.

There was recognition in her eyes, he thought, but not enough. “Jon,” he rasped out a reminder.

“Right! Jon Snow! Robb's friend! How wonderful to see you again.” He couldn't tell if she really meant it or not – he was guessing not, since she had always seemed so uncomfortable during her visits – but that did not matter now.

“I was hoping to talk to you. Um. If you have the time?”

She glanced at her watch, some slim, silver thing that looked expensive. “I have an appointment soon, maybe this afternoon? We could get a drink – do you know the Tyroshi Tea Room? Off the Hook?”

He was pretty sure he was nodding too much. “Yes, yes, I'll be there. When – 3? 4?”

“Let's say 4.” Sansa gave him an odd look, almost appraising. “See you then?”

He was still nodding. “Yes, Tea Room, 4, see you then.”

She walked off, cautiously, glancing back at him twice before shrugging it off and bouncing away.

Jon exhaled every bit of breath in his body. Now he just had to make until 4 o'clock.

*

If anyone asked him what he'd worked on all day, he wouldn't have any answer for them. He'd gone through motions, yes, moved papers around, answered phone calls. But what the papers said? What the _people_ said? He didn't have a clue.

He at least had the presence of mind to say goodbye to the office before he left for the day, and he didn't _think_ he saw any odd looks directed his way, but well, his powers of observation were not at their best right now, both out of exhaustion and out of excitement. 

Jon made his way to the Tea Room, surprised to see how busy it was. Most of the tables were occupied by couples or groups, and the line to order was almost at the door, but he was able to find Sansa sitting at a table near the center of the room. She didn't look like he'd been sitting there long? He _really_ hoped she hadn't been waiting long. 

But when he came close, she looked up and smiled and didn't seem angry. “Sorry, I'm late.”

“Oh, you're not,” Sansa said, without looking at her watch, “I got here early to grab us a table.”

He would have done if he had known it would be so busy. “Thank you.” He took a look around. “I'm going to go get a coffee. What would you like?”

Sansa smiled softly. “A white tea would be nice, thank you.”

Jon moved to the line to order, glancing back at Sansa every minute just to make sure she was still there. Despite the long line, their drinks were prepared quickly. He stopped by the bar on the way back to their table, bit his lip, and piled Sansa's saucer high with lemon wedges and sugar cubes, just in case she needed them. 

Her brow lifted in amusement when he handed over her drink, but she smiled and thanked him and folded her hands prettily on the the table. He remembered that about her, how she was always pretty like a picture. Arya had hated that about her, and it was easy to see why, what with Arya's hair perpetually ratted up and dirt smeared across her face. 

There was no longer a nice way to stall. She had come all this way to see him, and buying a tea for her wouldn't cut it. He would have to actually … _say_ something now. Just words. Just open his mouth, and say _words_. 

Gods, he couldn't feel his _tongue_. 

“Jon? Did you want to discuss something with me?”

He nodded, trying to swallow around his stupid, too-big tongue. It took up his _whole mouth_! He tried to swallow again, tried to clear his throat, rocked forward in his seat and then back. Jon took a drink of his coffee and promptly burned off half his tongue.

There was a strange glint in Sansa's bright blue eyes. Her voice had a strange distance to it, cold but close. “Is it about Joffrey?”

...How did she _know_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tells her story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon has had enough of hate, and so have I...
> 
> Bonus chapter, super early! 
> 
> You'll notice I have enabled comment moderation. I decided that would be best, I'm sure we can all see why.

Jon sat there mute, eyes so wide they started to prickle at the edges. He blinked hard, looked away, and coughed. Eyes stuck solidly to his coffee, he nodded.

“I saw it in your eyes. I used to have the same eyes.”

He glanced up for just a second, but he didn't make any contact.

“That's the nice thing about this place – it's so busy, people can't hear themselves _think_ , let alone what other people are saying.”

At this, he had to look up.

Sansa smiled knowingly and shrugged it off. His eyes dove back to the coffee. “Joffrey never let me go to tea rooms or coffeeshops. He was always afraid I'd meet some other man and run away with him. Any time I wanted to go anywhere, I had to be accompanied. Had to be watched for any sign of betrayal.” She took a sip of her tea. “I loved him. Pieces of him, not all of him. But I stayed for those pieces, for the times he made me think he was a white knight from the stories. He was the knight that saved me and the monster that kept me prisoner.”

His hands felt cold. He curled them along the coffee cup. His fingers felt jumpy, nervous. Why should he be nervous? He had heard these stories before.

“And it started with little things, things that seemed reasonable. What man isn't a little jealous, or possessive? It must mean he _cares_ , that he needs reassurance. So when he calls you names, he's just copying his father, he doesn't know any better, you can help him. And when he hits you, he's just angry and doesn't know how to express that in a healthy way, _you can help him_. When he goes through your phone and when he stops you from leaving the house and when he throws out all your favorite clothes, he's just afraid you'll leave him. He doesn't _mean_ it.”

Jon felt himself nodding along. Not for Joffrey of course, he was a horrible excuse for a man, wicked to the core, it was good that he was dead. But for Dany. She didn't mean it, she never meant to make him scared, it just happened. They both needed to work on communicating, that was all. 

“But he did. He always meant it. He knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he was scared and maybe he was angry and maybe he was abused growing up, but that did not give him any right to make me fear my own home.” There was a cold steel in Sansa's voice. “He took me away from my family then wouldn't let me see them, tried to tell me _he_ was the only family that I needed.” 

There was a clack of ceramic, and he glanced up. Her hands shook as she set down her teacup. She stilled them against the tabletop. 

“He was wrong. And I knew that. But I couldn't get out on my own. Of course, the only recourse I had left at that point was an old friend of my mother's, who was quite close to the Lannisters. That should have been enough to warn me off, but I was desperate. Petyr got me out of one cage and put me in another, and he thought I should thank him for it.” She glared down at her tea. “I disagreed.” Then she blinked and sighed and some tension let loose from her shoulders. “But by then, I knew what I was doing. I was able to get out on my own. And my family was able to send him to prison for all the times he raped me, if you can believe it.”

He could not believe it. This was too much, too much for anyone to bear, anyone to hear. He had thought it was horrid enough with Joffrey alone, and now there was this Petyr too, and how could all of this have happened to her and she still be able to breathe? He could barely breathe.

She must have seen something in his eyes, because her own softened. “And now I'm happy,” she told him, and she seemed to mean it. “I've got my family back, and friends, and a job I love. Lady – if you remember her, my lovely, little husky – Joffrey made get rid of her, but I have her back now. It was really hard, but I have my _life_ back.” She leaned forward in her seat, but her hands stayed on her side of the table. “And I think back to all the nights I cried myself to sleep, and I can't _believe_ I let it go on for so long, but I was scared, and I was trapped, and _it wasn't my fault_.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “And it's not yours either.”

Jon froze. No, no, this wasn't about him, this was about her, that was all. 

“It's not your fault, Jon.”

He shook his head, not about him, not about him.

“You can be free, too.”

He shook his head fiercely.

“You _can_ ,” she insisted. “You found me out for a reason, you came here today _for a reason_ , and we both know what that reason is. You don't have to say it aloud. Gods know it took me years to feel comfortable talking about it all, and sometimes it still hurts. But this is important, Jon. I can't help you if you don't want my help. I won't force this on you. My family tried that with me, and it just made things worse. So if you want this, you need to say so.” 

His eyes were on the tabletop, but he felt like he couldn't see anything at all. It had been one thing to race down a familiar face on the street, to meet her for tea.

It would be another thing entirely to do what she was suggesting. To admit … anything. To _say_ anything. It would change something in him, change his entire life, and maybe not for the better. So he should just go home right now, keep his mouth shut, and everything would stay the same.

Everything would stay the same. He could keep on going just like he always had. He could stay with her, and she could hurt him, and he could let her.

Or did he want something more?

“Yes!” he blurted out. He cleared his throat and repeated more calmly, “Yes, I do. Please.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.” He guessed she saw something important in his eyes, because she straightened up and slid a piece of paper to him across the table. “This is my phone number. Put it in your phone under a fake name as a work number, so she won't get suspicious.”

He looked down at the string of numbers, feeling a little lost. “But … she doesn't go through my phone.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sansa had an eyebrow lifted in clear skepticism. And that was easy enough to understand why, she'd been burnt before. Dany wasn't like that, though.

Probably.

Jon sighed and entered a new contact under the name Sam. He had to be careful. He couldn't be caught.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has some plans to make

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying out some things in style and format, just to see if I like it. Let me know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> A Special Note for those who do not care for this fic: Please keep in mind that I now moderate all comments for this fic. If I believe your comment isn't pertinent to this fic, I will not approve it to be posted, even if I support what you're saying - please keep arguments about characters and canon on tumblr, or wherever fandom meta is sold!
> 
> For those who do care for this fic: Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you all so, so much!!

**“How's your day been?”**

“I've had better.”

**“Sorry to hear that, Jon.”**

“It'll be okay.”

*

He apologized to Dany for everything, for being selfish, for being cruel. Her eyes went soft, and she kissed him. He kissed her back.

*

“Rough night. Not sure how much longer I can do this.”

**“As long as it takes.”**

****

****

**“Delete this.”**

*

Living his normal life felt far too easy and far too strange. Like he was lying, but how could he have been lying for all these years? This was his life, but he felt like an imposter. This wasn't the life he wanted.

He was a fraud.

But he kept going. Kept waking up to his alarm and getting dressed and going to work. Going home on his lunch breaks to take Ghost for a walk. Making dinner for Dany. Cleaning the condo. 

And Dany kept going too. The other councilors, and more importantly her closest advisers, had urged her to postpone the war with Pentos while they discussed other alliances in Essos, and maybe some did want an all-out war, and maybe some just wanted to distract her from it, but whatever their reasons, the diversion worked. Dany agreed to not go to war just yet. 

Braavos had already informed Dany that they would stand beside her forces. She had been right – they were unhappy Pentos insisted on using loopholes to maintain slavery. Myr and Tyrosh did not want to work together, so their rulers argued over how they should choose their alliances.

All these important discussions happening all across the world, and Jon sat around, making lists.

*

“What should I focus on?”

**“For what?”**

“You know.”

**“Money.”**

“Really? I was thinking somewhere to stay.”

**“You can stay with me. Money matters more. Trust me. If you've got money, you can be free. If you don't, you're just going from one cage to another.”**

“You sure?”

**“Yes.”**

****

****

**“Delete all of this, okay?”**

“Yeah, no problem.”

*

**Money.** Sansa said that was the big one. He had to have a way of accessing his money, separate from Dany's. They had a joint account, and then she had a separate for one for her inheritance. He wasn't sure it was safe to just … move all of his money out of their account. And to be honest with himself, he wasn't sure he knew how much was actually his. Those lines blurred to oblivion the second they opened that joint account. 

Maybe he should request his pay stubs. And maybe copies of his tax forms.

**Job.** He didn't want to leave his position, but he wasn't sure he had much of a choice. He couldn't serve as Lady Lyanna's aide if he couldn't speak to the High Councilor. Lyanna would have to find someone else. And he would have to find someone else, too. Maybe he could move back North. Work for a politician there. Maybe smaller would be better, until he could get back on his feet. 

So he would need to update his resume, and convince Lady Lyanna to write him a letter of recommendation. But could he ask for that before he officially left? Probably not. He would have to just keep her contact information on hand until he got out. 

Jon didn't like to consider it, but it was possible he would not be able to find a job in his field after this. He might have to work somewhere else. He might have to go back to school. But for what? 

He sighed and laid down fully on the floor, cuddling up against Ghost. 

**Ghost.** Smartest thing to do would be to give him up for adoption, but he couldn't ever do that. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then … No. He just couldn't. But he might need to find Ghost somewhere to stay while he found a new place. So he should find some shelter or daycare or vacation services. Somewhere that would keep and take care of Ghost while Jon set up a new life.

**House.** He would need somewhere with a yard, for Ghost. Too long he had lived in an apartment, cooped up, not able to run free like he was born to. That would run expensive, unless he was far from any city at all. And then he would need a car. Which would definitely be expensive.

He grumbled and rubbed his face into Ghost's back. Money would have to come first. Just like Sansa had said. 

*

“You were right.”

**“I normally am.”**

“And so humble.”

**“That too.”**

****

****

**“:)”**

**“Delete that last one, it looks ridiculous.”**

“I thought I was only supposed to delete things that were dangerous?”

**“It's … dangerous to my self image?”**

“Not sure that counts.”

**“:( You might want to delete these last couple messages though.”**

*

He deleted the last few messages, but he kept the smiley face Sansa had sent. 

The next day, when he ran to the bank for Lady Lyanna, Jon opened his own account. He deposited the minimum twenty stags, and memorized the bank numbers instead of writing it down anywhere. Just to be safe.

It didn't seem safe. Seemed reckless. But he didn't know if he would get as good of a chance again. 

And Dany was busy enough with the war effort that she probably wouldn't notice. He barely saw her, most days. If she wasn't meeting with magisters to convince them to join the alliance, she was meeting with high lords of the South to raise funds for it. 

But it kept her distracted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany makes a demand...

“Gods _damn_ it.” 

Dany's voice was a hiss, and Jon froze before reminding himself that he was supposed to be pretending to be relaxed around her now. “Honey, what is it?”

“That dog doesn't come anywhere _near_ my closet, and his hair is _still_ all over this dress,” she griped. 

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry.” Were all the honeys too obvious? Maybe he should dial it back. “I know how annoying that can be. I have a lint roller in my nightstand, I'll go grab it.” He stood and moved to their bedroom, but her voice stopped him.

“It's not --” she sighed heavily. “I know lint rollers exist, Jon, it's just _infuriating_. He's always in the way, his kennel takes up tons of space, he needs to be let out all the time,” she cut off her list with a huff, and then grew still. “He makes my dragons nervous. I couldn't bare to lose them.”

Jon leaned against the wall. “Sorry … what are you saying?” he asked carefully.

Dany sighed. “I'm saying … maybe we should give him up.”

“Give up Ghost?” He felt kind of numb. 

“I know it's hard,” Dany moved forward and grasped his hands, “But this condo, this _city_ , is no place for him. He should be somewhere with a yard, somewhere colder.” Somewhere more free. Jon understood. “Maybe you should put him up for adoption.”

He wanted to freeze. He wanted to cry. He wanted to rage and say that maybe if her dragons were so nervous, they could go somewhere else, why did it have to be Ghost, but that wasn't fair, this was her home, and he was leaving, and –

And he was leaving. 

He blinked. Nodded. “Maybe you're right.”

She nodded too, her lips pursed in pretend sympathy. She couldn't possibly be genuine – if she really cared, she wouldn't ask this of him. 

“I may need some time. To set things up for him,” he explained. “Find him a family, if I can.”

“Oh, _of course_ , Jon,” she gushed, hugging him tight. 

He took the opportunity to let his face collapse. He held her just as tightly to keep her face hidden in his chest just a little bit longer. Gods, he had to get out of this place. 

*

He worked through his lunch break the next day, computer turned entirely into the wall so no one could glance over his shoulder, comparing options for Ghost's housing. He deserved better than this, he really did. The only point where Jon still agreed with Dany anymore was that Ghost deserved better than this place.

Shelters. Pedigrees. Competitions. Daycares. Temporary boarding kennels. Longterm spas – why was there a market for spas for _dogs_?

Vacation boarding would be best. But that was assuming he could find housing in that time. He took out his phone.

“Do you have any experience with dog daycares?”

**“Not really. When J made me get rid of my dog, I gave her to Arya to take care of instead of really giving her away.”**

**“Why?”**

“D wants me to get rid of mine too. I told her I would. But I don't want to do it for real.”

**“I totally understand.”**

**“...What kind of dog do you have?”**

“Albino husky. Got him after I moved from the Watch.”

**“My girl's a husky. Pretty friendly with other large dogs. He could stay with us for a bit?”**

“... You would do that?”

**“Of course. I've been there.”**

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

**“My pleasure.”**

**“And Jon?”**

“Don't worry, they're already deleted.”

**“Thanks.”**

Then he deleted those messages too, and turned back to the borrowed computer. Boarding kennel, for sure then. But it all came down to money. He'd been moving small amounts to his new account, but not nearly enough. He'd been working fifty hours a week for years, he had to have money that was definitely his own, not Dany's.

When Lyanna came back from lunch, he asked if there were records for all his old pay stubs. She gave him an odd look, but she found the room number for storage, and he was able to get copies of every single stub since he'd started.

… He had made a _lot_ of money. But what was fair?

“What are the rules about how much money is yours?”

**“You have a job. So your pay minus half the living expenses for however long you were together.”**

**“It sucks to pay that much, I know, but you don't want to be held up for theft either.”**

“She owns. Idk how much we do in food or anything.”

**“Time to do some math, then.”**

“Math gives me a headache.”

He sighed and deleted the messages. Now he had to find a calculator. 

*

“This day took forever to be over.”

**“But at least this is the last time you ever have to live this particular day, right?”**

“...Right!”

“Where is that from?”

**“Oh, it's not from anything. I just had to say that to myself a lot, back in the day.”**

**“I thought it helped.”**

“It kind of does.”

*

Jon laid in bed for hours that night. Thinking. Plotting.

Even if he gave half of that money to Dany when he left, he'd still have enough to put a down payment on a house, a house up North, with a yard for Ghost. Probably would have enough for a payment on a car. Would have enough to pay for a couple months while he set up a new life for the two of them. 

He may just have to stay at an inn for a bit while he set that up. Inns allowed dogs, didn't they? If not, he would just have to take Sansa up on her offer. Ghost liked other dogs okay, even if he hadn't spent much time around them.

He had the money; he just had to move it over. He'd have Sansa watch Ghost while he stayed in a hotel, and he'd get a realtor and a job... somehow. But the money was there. That's what was important. He'd cared a lot about money back in uni – growing up in an orphanage, how could he not – but after he'd moved in with Dany, it hadn't mattered as much. He'd been able to stop worrying about it so much. And he'd never been able to afford a place like this on his own. 

But he'd live in a room the size of a silver stag if it meant he wouldn't have to be afraid anymore.

_Priorities,_ he reminded himself. _Priorities._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An artifact makes another appearance...

Jon began varying his schedule. He normally did the same things every day, but he started taking long lunches sometimes, went out right away for errands that could have waited, took Ghost out for long walks and told Dany he was meeting with prospective adopters. By the time he came back, Dany would be back at work, and he had the extra time to relax. 

He laid down on the living room floor with Ghost, both panting from fatigue. He stared up at the ceiling, watched the ceiling fan circle and the hanging dragon ornaments flutter. Dany loved her dragons.

She loved him too, he was sure of it. He was _sure_ of it. She had been nothing but nice to him for ages, and after he moved in with her … well, she was still nice sometimes, that had to count for something, didn't it?

He thought about asking Sansa, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer. She wasn't the same girl who had avoided all the boys in the orphanage to read romance novels and practice needlepoint, the girl who had always had a nice thing to say about everyone, even people she hadn't met. She would tell him what she really thought. 

And deep down, he already knew. Yes, Dany was nice. Sometimes she bought him the wine he liked, sometimes she took off work early to spend more time with him, sometimes her smile was shining and her kiss was soft and her skin was softer.

Sometimes she loved him with her whole soul and his whole body felt ablaze with it.

It still wasn't enough.

He wasn't the boy he had been at the Watch. He had been so desperate for every scrap of affection for so long, that he couldn't remember when he stopped needing that from Dany. When he had started wanting something more.

Something better.

*

He packed his suitcase and stowed it in the back of the closet where he normally kept it. Extra clothes, spare chargers He emptied out his gym bag and kept it in his nightstand, so he could pack in a hurry if he needed to. He hadn't noticed how few personal items he owned until he started thinking about picking them out. 

No furniture. No dishes. Just clothes, and everything for Ghost. 

Didn't he used to have hobbies? Goals? When had he gotten so boring?

Well. Once he'd moved, he'd have plenty of time for that. He'd buy his own things and do … _something_ with his time. Art … or sports … or something.

He'd think about that later. 

He'd have a lot to think about that later. For now though, Lyanna needed to be told. 

Not the _whole_ thing, obviously. But enough. She'd been a good boss, trusted him, gave him lots of important responsibilities. Made him primary aide faster than most – Tarly, Tyrell, Greyjoy, Martell, they all used relatives, people they'd known their whole lives. Lyanna had taken him in on the word of her uncle, one she hadn't seen in years. 

Uncle Jeor was a good man. He had passed a few years ago. All the Watch boys had gone to the wake, and they'd said goodbye to the only father any of them had ever known.

He missed Uncle Jeor. He'd have to visit the Watch once he'd left Dany, maybe even visit the Bear Islands. 

But he'd have to leave first. And that meant he'd have to tell Lyanna he was leaving, or at least hint at it just enough that she wouldn't be shocked when it happened. Or … he checked the clock – Dany shouldn't be back for hours. He could … 

He grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scrawled out, 

_“Lady Lyanna._

__

__

_~~If you're reading this~~ _

__

__

_I am sorry I left the way I did ~~but I felt I had to~~ ; I hope you can forgive me for it. _

__

__

_It has been an honor to work by your side these last few years. Thank you for ~~all the opportunities you afforded me~~ everything. I know you'll do great things._

__

__

_Jon Snow”_

Jon folded the paper and sealed it in an envelope, labeling it _Lyanna_ so she would know to read it. 

He slipped it in his jacket pocket and ran off to the office. The building was mostly empty, only a few dim lights on, but he had a key to the main office, so he let himself in. 

They were allowed personal effects at their desks, but Jon had never bothered. Made it easier for him now – he didn't have to worry about leaving anything important behind. He opened his desk drawer … and paused. 

The picture.

He'd almost forgotten. Jon did have one personal effect here. The picture of him and Dany having a picnic in the godswood back when they were in school together, still head over heels for each other. They'd been happy, once. 

He'd been happy. 

Even now, after planning for everything so he could leave her, he wished he could stay. Wished Dany could hold her tongue, keep her temper in check, give him love without all the pain and the fear dashed in. But she couldn't.

So Jon couldn't stay.

He left the envelope in his desk. He took the picture home with him.

*

The next morning, right before he left for lunch, he leaned against the doorframe of Lyanna's office. “Sorry,” he started, “But do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Jon, what is it?” Lyanna put her pen down and took off her glasses, folding her hands on her desk.

He tried to make it as non-committal as possible, but he had to lay the groundwork all the same. “I was thinking of going back North for a bit, just wondering if you thought we could swing that some time soon?”

“Should be fine,” she answered immediately, pulling out the leather-bound planner she used to keep an eye out for months in advance. “Let me just check.” Lyanna flipped through some pages, nodding gently. “Yeah, it's fine. What week? Maybe a fortnight from now?”

Jon shook his head and hurriedly held up his hands. “Oh, no, no, nothing now. Doesn't have to be put in right away.” He coughed. “Not sure when exactly I'll be going. Just wanted to see if it would be okay.”

Lyanna exhaled in a way that could be considered a chuckle. “You have almost two months saved up in vacation time, of course it's okay. You're an amazing aide, Jon, but our staff's a strong one. We can get by without you for a couple weeks.” She gave something that could definitely be considered a smile; over the years, Jon had learned Lyanna was not unfeeling, simply reserved.

He smiled in response. “If you're sure. I'll let you know when my plans become more solid, okay?”

_There_ , right there, that was a full smile. “Sure, Jon. Thanks for the advance notice.” She slipped her glasses back on. “Have a nice lunch.”

“Thanks.” Nice lunch. _Right_. He certainly wasn't moving another three hundred coins to his secret account over lunch. 

Jon grabbed his jacket and headed out. He would miss Lyanna when he left. Maybe more than he would miss anything or anyone else, he would miss Lady Lyanna, with her simple speech and her stern gaze and the way she trusted him to do great things, the way so many other people trusted Dany to do those great things.

He would miss that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how this story is tagged Extremely Dubious Consent? 
> 
> Yeah...

It had been a long day at work – a long week, honestly – and all Jon wanted to do was take Ghost for a run and then have a nice, long soak. He locked the door behind him, tossing keys and shoes away as he made his way to their bedroom. 

He stopped dead at the sight of Dany, poised and poisonous. She wore dark clothes, leather, lots of layers, just a flare of red at her collar. She was dressed for a treaty negotiation, armored for a battle.

_She knew._

No, no, she couldn't know. But she was angry, and steaming, and there were papers in a neat little stack in front of her on the coffee table, and Dany only tidied up when she was trying to swallow down the rage. 

She didn't normally succeed.

“Were you going to tell me, Jon?”

Seven hells, he was caught out. _Lie,_ a fierce hiss blazed through his mind. Was it in Sansa's voice? Or was it his own? No matter.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” Despite the dead weight of his tongue, he managed to not slur it. 

Dany blinked and cocked her head. Her lips were still solid, eyes still careful, but she was listening. He could do this, he could do this, he could get through this, he just had to be smart. “What surprise?”

She didn't like many surprises, didn't like most gifts after so many had tried to buy her affections – and her votes – what could he say? _Stall,_ he realized. “Well, I just know how hard you've been working lately. And I know sometimes we fight. But I thought it might be nice to do something special for our anniversary. Since it'll be seven years, for us.”

She nodded slowly. “And you didn't want me to see one big purchase with a name attached to your surprise, so you've just been moving money slowly.”

So she knew about the money. That didn't mean she knew where he was putting it. And she believed him when he said it was all for her. Jon kept his breath still, but he wanted to exhale his whole soul in relief. “Exactly. I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

Dany's eyes went soft, her smile slow and crooked. “Didn't think to warn me it would look like you're stealing all my money?”

_It's my money,_ he insisted in the safety of his head, _I'm not stealing a **bronze** from you,_ but he shrugged one shoulder and tried to look bashful. “Guess I'm not very good at surprises.”

Dany almost laughed at that. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Jon, how could you be so careless? Are you slow?”

He thought of Big Walder, from the Watch. People called him simple, but he was a good man, kind and loyal, and Jon had gotten into a fair amount of scraps as a youth to defend Big Walder's honor. He bit his tongue and tried to pass a grimace off as a coy grin. “Everyone knows you're the smart one.” That's what she'd always said, back when they were in school. That she was the brains and the beauty and he was just the back up. 

She smiled at the reminder. “And as the smart one, I think you should make it up to me.”

Seven _hells,_ he just wanted to sleep, but he returned the leer as best he could, and said, “Oh yeah? What'd you have in mind?” _Say flowers. Say Tyroshi honeyfingers. Say anything but …_

“I'm sure you can figure it out,” she told him, undoing her leather belt. 

… But that. Jon held back his sigh and took a step towards her. 

“Strip,” she told him, and for one moment, he wildly missed the days they had helped each other take their clothes off, had flirted and danced and gotten distracted by kissing. It meant nothing now. He was an imposter in his own skin, a liar, a fraud. How could he make love to a woman he did not love?

But he had to. 

He had to, he _had_ to, but he didn't want to, he _didn't want to_. But their relationship had never been about what he wanted. Just what Dany did. 

He bit the bile down and shed his clothes quickly, tossing them away, some onto the floor, some draping on a chair. 

Dany was methodical, but she often was. Gone were the impetuous old days, where she could be convinced to join a protest or sign a petition at the wave of an impassioned activist, where Jon was careful and measured and planned all his essays out in advance. They weren't the same people anymore.

She stripped down to her slip and held out her hand to him. He took it. Her skin felt too warm, or maybe he was too cold. 

_They weren't the same people anymore._

She led him to their bedroom, had him fall on his knees in front of her. This, at least, was familiar. He had loved to do this, once. She had tasted of love, once. 

_They weren't the same people anymore._

She came, she sighed, she pulled him into bed. He rocked into her, an easy rhythm led by her hands, her wide eyes blinking up at him. She had beautiful eyes. Beautiful skin. She was beautiful, she had always been beautiful. That, at least, was the same. 

He wasn't an imposter for this, he told himself. He wasn't a fraud. Sometimes, a lie was necessary. Sometimes, a lie was all a man had to keep himself safe. He had to keep himself safe.

When she came again, she closed her eyes. He closed his eyes too, took a deep breath, and tried to not despair at knowing Dany was a threat, and not knowing when that had happened. Not at the beginning, of course not. But maybe after he had moved in? Maybe the first time they had a real fight, a long, drawn out mess of curses and complaints? 

He hid his face at her neck and inhaled deeply until he no longer felt like crying. She smelt like spices, somehow, and something warm, like smoke from a campfire. She smelt like strength. Like home. But this wasn't home anymore.

_They weren't the same people anymore._

And this wasn't making love, this was lying, and he hated it, but he licked at her skin and lied, and lied, and lied. 

She came for the third time, and then she pushed him away gently, a limp hand on his jaw. She fussed with her hair and caught her breath and said, “You are forgiven.”

She did not say, “I love you.” He did not say it either. She fell asleep. He did not, not for many hours, but he finally drifted off out of exhaustion.

Dany woke early for her morning run. He woke at her alarm, but he stayed still and kept his breathing even so she wouldn't know, and he waited. 

He waited for her to close the front door. He waited for her to get downstairs. He waited for her to finish her warm-up and start off at a slow jog, for her to hit the flat land past the edges of the Red Keep and round the bend up to the Northern outskirts. 

He took a deep breath.

And then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this leg of the story; there's one more part, for those who are interested - Ice Is Also Great! I hope to start posting it next week
> 
> For those leaving the story here, thank you for reading! I cherish you all


End file.
